


A Wonderland For Dean

by SarahJaneS



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fantasy, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:54:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 11,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4405346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SarahJaneS/pseuds/SarahJaneS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean did not like doing research so when Sam suggests he take a nap instead, Dean happily agrees. Then he hears a sound from outside and starts a chase that leads him down a long and twisted road filled with familiar faces from his past.<br/>This is a recreation of Alice in Wonderland. The story line closely follows that of the original book as opposed to any of the movies, and many of the lines from the story are directly out of the book (with a little Supernatural flare).<br/>There is some swearing but otherwise is a clean story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!!

 

      Dean glanced over at Sam and creaked his jaw in an enormous yawn.  
      "You're doing it again," Sam said without lifting his head from his book.  
      "Doing what?" Dean asked, blinking his bleary eyes.  
      "Look, Dean if you're tired take a nap, but all your yawning is distracting."  
      "Yeah yeah," Dean retorted, and he laid back against the motel bed with a sigh. They had been hunting a kitsune for two weeks straight and the thing seemed to always be a step ahead. Sam had suggested going back to the books, maybe finding something to help lure it out into the open, and while it seemed like a good idea at the time, Dean found research to be horribly dull. It was sucking the energy right out of him. Jabbing his elbow into his pillow a few times, Dean laid back and closed his eyes. He supposed a short nap could help recharge the old noggin.  
      Suddenly, he heard a soft rattle from outside the room and Dean's eyes flew open again.  
      "What was that?" He asked, but Sam only shook his head annoyed. Dean got to his feet and went to the motel window where he peeked out into the darkness beyond. Off in the distance, he caught a glimpse of white. "I'm going out there," Dean announced, and then slipped out the door before Sam could stop him or respond.  
The chill of the night air caused Dean to pull his jacket tighter, and rain was falling steady against the pavement. He hurried past the parking lot of the motel and into the woods beyond. Just ahead of him, a woman dressed in white pajama pants and a camisole, was venturing deeper into the unknown.  
      "Hey!" Dean called out to her, and the woman turned to look at him. Dean took a step back. "Meg?" He called out the question. Instead of responding, Meg turned and disappeared over an edge in the terrain and Dean called out to her again.  
      "Hey! Damn it!" He broke into a run, skidded on the slick wet leaves, then regained his footing and ran again. "Meg!" He called out into the night. "Get back here, you’re supposed to be dead!" He knew how silly that sounded but what else could he say?  
      Dean reached the ridge too quickly. He saw the way it dropped but was moving too fast and the ground was too slick from him to stop. Suddenly he was slipping, sliding, falling all through the trees and shrubs down a muddy slick path deeper into the woods. The incline gave way to a sudden drop, and Dean pitched forward, suddenly flying, and landed hard on the soggy earth.  
      The wind knocked out of him, and Dean grunted as he strained to sit up. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he surveyed his surroundings. The night was dark, and the overhead trees covered any moonlight Dean might have had. Stupidly, he forgot his flashlight at the hotel, but in the dim stillness of the night, he could just make out the shape of a large mass. Moving towards it, he placed cautious hands upon it, and realized it was some sort of building.  
      Dean got to his feet and let his hands guide him as he made his way down the long stretch of wall and around the corner to arrive at the entrance. There were no windows, not even in the door, so Dean could only imagine what lay beyond, but he thought he'd take the risk and go inside. After all, the alternative was to feel his way around the woods and continue to get wet. Trying the door, Dean found it unlocked. With one more glance over his shoulder, he slipped within.  
      The room inside was cool, and Dean shivered a little from the rain and mud that clung damp to his clothes. The entrance gave way to a vast cathedral that housed a few sparse scatters of furniture and small ornamental tables.  
      "Well this is...curious," Dean muttered, and took a step forward. His boot let out a squeak as it connected with water on the floor and Dean looked down to the glossy marble landscape. Trailing before him, was a set of wet footprints going deeper into the room.  
      "Meg," Dean whispered and cautiously edged deeper with newfound purpose.  
       The room housed only one door at the far end. Dean walked across marble and spreads of fine oriental rugs with barely a notice to the muddy mess he trailed behind. Upon reaching the door, he tried the handle. Locked, of course.  
      "Figures," Dean muttered and wished he had grabbed his lock picks in addition to his flashlight. Dean turned to scan the room behind him, looking for another door or a key perhaps, and his eyes fell on a bottle of liquid sitting on a small round table. Was that there before? Dean walked over to it and examined the amber liquid within the snifter. Next to it, laid two small tumbler glasses.  
      "Oh this is just screaming 'Drink me'," thought Dean, and he pulled the stopper from the bottle. He gave the liquid a quick sniff and the alcohol content threatened to burn his nose hairs. It was just how he liked it.  
       Pouring a generous amount into one of the tumblers, he tilted his head back and took the liquid down in one go. The drink seemed to rush to his senses, and Dean stumbled feeling suddenly woozy. He fell back and landed hard on his ass as he shook his head to clear the fireworks from his vision.  
      "Woo!" He shouted against the barren room and listened appreciatively to his echo. That was some good shit. He would have to get some more. Tilting his head back, Dean realized how far up the table was and let out a small whine. He did not feel like getting up again. At least not until the room stopped spinning.  
      Lowering his gaze, Dean glanced over at the locked door once more and saw that there was a vent along the base of the wall right beside it. The grate to the vent was removed and tilted casually against the wall on the other side.  
      "Well that's even more curious," Dean said to himself and he wondered if he could fit. Dean crawled across the room and examined the opening to the vent upon his approach. It appeared large enough to house him. Looking within, he could see the vent extended some distance to what appeared to be a sunlit garden on the other side. What the hell? Wasn't it night outside? Dean crawled closer and too late he noticed the softer tile in the marble floor that he rested his hand upon. A large clank on the wall behind him indicated a lever being thrown, and Dean fell back as a metal door slid down over the vent entrance sealing it shut with a loud clang. If his head had been there...Dean swore and looked up at the lever on the wall.  
      Carefully, he got to his feet again, and the dizzying effects of the alcohol he consumed subsided. Dean walked to the lever and examined it. It seemed a simple concept to throw the lever, and allow the metal door to lift, gaining him access to the garden once more. Was anything ever simple?  
      Before he could hesitate further, Dean reached up and threw the lever with a jarring screech. Suddenly water started to pour into the room and Dean looked up to see rows of open holes running along the tops of the walls which were now dumping water at a rapid pace.  
     "What the hell?" Dean said and thought it was high time to get the fuck out of there. He ran back to the entranceway, but the door he came in with wouldn't budge. He tried kicking it and throwing his shoulder into it but the door had no give. Dean knew a lost cause when he saw one.  
     Turning, he ran back into the main corridor and cursed under his breath when he saw that the water was collecting and had started to rise quite rapidly. Already it was halfway to his knees. What was up with this place?  
     Dean ran to the lever and threw it again but nothing happened. He tried a second time, and the thing snapped off the wall. Dean groaned, holding the useless thing in his hands. Then he looked up and saw that there was a second door along the side wall of the room. Now that definitely wasn't there before. What was up with this place?  
Dean sloshed through knee deep water and made his way towards the door. He half expected it to be locked, but surprisingly it wasn't. He threw it open, and water rushed past him sucking him down with it.  
     Dean cried out as he was tossed through rushing water down a long corridor and towards a blinding bright light beyond.


	2. Chapter 2

          Dean squinted against the sun as he waded out of the water and towards the shore. When did he get outside? When did it become midday? How long had he been in that stupid building? Dean could answer none of it.   
          As Dean found his footing in the shallows of the river, he looked up to the shoreline and saw Meg moving along the shade of the oak trees. She didn't notice him, and seemed to be heading away at a pretty steady clip.  
          "Hey!" Dean called out to her, and Meg whirled to look at him. As soon as she saw his face, Meg's eyes grew wide and she turned, breaking into a run.  
          "Wait! Dammit," Dean shouted and wrestled his way out of the water. Meg did no such thing and in a flash of white, she escaped around a corner.   
          Going to the trees where he saw Meg walking, Dean noticed a path was worn into the earth and thought taking it would surely lead him to her. As he walked, he pondered what the hell was going on.   
          "I know I'm me," he said allowed to himself, "at least I was this morning...but what if something is wrong with me? What if this is all in my head? Wouldn't that be a great fucking puzzle?"   
          Off in the distance, the trees gave way to a sunny clearing and Dean could see movement in the grass. He made his way towards the area, but as soon as the trees parted and the full meadow came into view, Dean stopped short.   
          "Benny?" He asked, genuinely confused. The vampire, who last he saw was very dead, turned to look at him with a toothy smile.   
          "Hello, Dean," his familiar husky voice cooed in his Louisiana drawl.   
          "But..." Dean couldn't say the words. Announcing Benny dead would lead way to announcing that he killed him. "Where am I?" He said instead. Benny shrugged.  
          "You're the hunter, you tell me."   
          "I don't understand," Dean shook his head confused.   
          "Well aren't you hunting? What are you hunting?" Dean thought this a very valid question, but when he thought back to the day before, he couldn't remember exactly what he was after.   
          "Come, let me introduce you to my new friends," Benny said with smile still in place, and he got to his feet, moving away from the tall grass. Dean eyed the vampire warily and hung back as Benny stalked deeper into the woods. Up ahead of them, an outcropping of rocks jutted from the earth to combat with the sparse forest foliage. Upon the rocks, sat three figures.  
          "Who are your friends, Benny," Dean asked with his voice on edge.   
          "Oh... you'll see soon enough," Benny replied with his slow easy drawl and then he started to whistle. Dean swallowed, trying to settle his nerves, but his gut told him that this was just like purgatory. This strange place where reality got twisted and things could be looking to claim his head.   
As they got closer, the noise of their movement begged detection.   
          "Are you finally going to tell us a story, Benny," a familiar voice chimed, and then all heads turned in unison to look at Dean.   
The moment he saw them, Dean reached for a knife that wasn't there. A gun. Hell, a fucking pocket knife. Nothing was on him! Why the hell did he leave the motel unarmed?   
          On top of the rocks, poised on picnic blankets and with tea cups in hand, sat Abaddon, Lilith, and Azazel peering down at him. A fucking demon trifecta. He should have never trusted Benny. Edging away, Dean looked around him frantically for something to use as a weapon.   
          "Easy, Dean," Benny drawled, "calm yourself, hunter."  
          "Hunter?" Lilith squeaked. She was in her child form again. The one that terrified Dean the most. "You know I don't like hunters, Benny."  
          "Everyone be easy," Benny said as he lifted his hands complacently, "Dean is just here to listen to the story like the rest of you. Dean is my friend."  
          "Dean Winchester?" Abaddon said as she looked down her nose at Dean. "I propose we skip the story and have a contest instead."  
          "Yes!" Azazel hissed and his yellow eyes bored into Dean. "A contest and he is the prize." Dean tried to edge away again but Benny caught his sleeve.   
          "Enough. All of you," he called up to them, "No contests and no prizes. Either I tell a story, or we all go home."   
They agreed, begrudgingly, and Benny helped Dean to climb onto the rocks where he settled in to tell his tale.   
          "Where did I leave off last time?" Benny asked.  
          "Purgatory!" Cheered Lilith and she clapped her hands. The other two nodded in unison.  
          "So," Benny said with a leer, "Dean and I were in Purgatory, and he just got suckered into teaming up with that vial cat, Castiel." The demons all booed at this and Lilith spit into the grass next to where she was perched. Dean stared at them in amazement. It was like they were acting like children.   
          "Castiel tricked Dean into thinking we needed him to escape purgatory, but your pal Benny knew better. That cat was nothing but poison raining Leviathan all over our heads." Abaddon shrieked at this and Dean rolled his eyes. Benny's story was absolute bullshit, but Dean didn't really feel the need to set the record straight with a bunch of dead demons.   
          "Look, Benny, I need to get going so..."  
          "Let me finish my story," Benny said glaring, and Dean thought better than to argue with his lack of weapon and all.  
          "See Dean here, he needed me to survive and to help him. There were these tablets you see, ones that sealed demons away and ones that sealed angels away and Dean needed me to read them."   
          "You're so brave, Benny," Azazel admired and the other two demons nodded agreement. So brave. Brave Benny. Dean changed his mind. He had the shits of this version of the story.  
          "That's not what happened," Dean said, getting to his feet, "none of that happened. I was the one that saved Benny, not the other way around."  
          "Why should we believe you, Dean?" Asked Abaddon, "You’re just a lowly hunter.   
          "Stop saying that word," Lilith wailed and she brought her tiny hands to her ears. Dean felt the need to press on.   
          "Benny is not a prophet. I didn't need him to read the demon and angel tablets. I had Kevin for that."  
          "Kevin?" Benny exclaimed and suddenly the whole lot of them were scrambling to their feet.   
          "What's wrong?" Dean asked but none offered a response as they staggered off of rocks and dispersed into the woods surrounding him.   
          "Well fuck," Dean said to himself, and climbed down from the rocks as well.


	3. Chapter 3

          Dean continued on the path through the forest, and did not again catch sight or smell of Benny and his trio of demons. That was all very strange. Why would they run at Kevin's name? Kevin was dead. Of course, so were the rest of the people in this strange place.   
          Speaking of the deceased, Dean looked up and paused when he saw Meg resting along the path up ahead, rubbing at her bare feet. He approached her cautiously, half expecting her to run, but instead she looked up at him and greeted him with a smile.   
          "Hello Mary Ann," she said jovially. She was still dressed in her white pajama pants and camisole, and Dean noticed her bare feet looked pretty scraped up from all her running.   
          "It's Dean," he corrected and Meg let out a slow easy laugh.   
          "Sure sure, Mary Ann." Dean shrugged it off. Meg always liked to call Cas Clarence, maybe she just had a thing for kinky pet names. He wasn't going to judge. Looking down at her feet, she winced when she rubbed them again. "Say, maybe you can do something for me? I'm supposed to meet the Mother and I was in such a hurry to leave, I forgot my shoes. Can you get them for me?"  
          "Where are they? Back at the motel?" Meg looked up at him astonished. Her dark hair hugged at the round frame of her face as she shook her head.   
          "No... of course not. They are in my house. It's just back the path a ways, on the left. You should know this, Mary Ann."   
Dean sighed and looked back the way he came. Not knowing where he was going, what he was doing, or who he was looking for, he figured sticking with Meg was his best bet so he decided to oblige her.   
          "Okay, wait here," he said to the demon, and turned to jog back the way he came.   
          He didn't trek long before Dean noticed a narrow road jeering off to the left with a sign at the bend decorated with 'MEG' in white paint. Was this here before? Dean continued down the narrow path and came upon a small house in the clearing. The house looked drab with windows set high on the walls and dingy wood shanks staggered over the surface. Moss grew unchecked all over everything.   
          Dean walked up and tried the door, and was surprised to find it unlocked. He slipped inside and found Meg's shoes in no time.   
          "I heard him go walking up, and when I looked, I saw the hunter go in!" Dean heard the voice coming from outside, and he crouched against the wall. Lifting himself into his toes, he was just able to look out the window and see a mass of people standing outside. Many of them he recognized as monsters and demons he killed.   
          "Keep your voice down, Gordon! Get the torch. We burn the place down."  
          "Not if I do it first," Dean thought and he looked around. On a lamp stand next to a quaint Victorian medallion couch, Dean spotted a glass bottle filled with liquid. He took a quick swig, staggering under its potency, and poured the rest all over the floor. He would need to find more of this stuff before he found his way back to Sam.   
          Seeing a fire starter hanging from a hook, Dean grabbed it and climbed up the furniture to reach the high set windows. As an afterthought, he snatched up Meg's flat shoes and stuffed them into his shirt.   
          He unhooked the window and swung it open to look down at the people below. Some of them held torches now, and all turned to look up at him.   
          "There he is!" One shouted, and a few of them threw rocks at him.   
          "Really?" He taunted, “that's all you got?" The jab was enough to spur them to motion. They poured into the house, desperate to reach him. Dean took the opportunity to ignite the fire starter, and drop in onto the alcohol saturated carpets. The room burst into flame and Dean jumped out the window just narrowly avoiding the heat. He ran to the front door and pulled it shut before any creatures were able to escape. He used a chair from the front porch to pin the door in place and stepped back, waiting to see if it would hold.   
          Voices within shouted and screamed, and fists pounded against the walls, but the door stayed in place. Dean was satisfied, and did not spare another glance at the building. He turned instead and jogged his way back to Meg.   
          She was still waiting where he left her and Dean tossed Meg her shoes. "Thank you, Mary Ann," she said with a sigh as she slipped tarnished feet into the soft satin of her soled slippers. "I hope you left the house in the same condition you found it." Dean glanced over his shoulder at the thin tendrils of black smoke curling into the sky.   
          "Uh...yep. It's great," he said and Meg smiled.   
          "Good, now if you'll excuse me, I’m extremely late." And with that, she broke into a run. Dean thought about going after her; was in fact poised to do just that, but his eyes caught something and Dean stopped dead in his tracks. A stir of motion; a shock of shortened red hair...  
          "Charlie?" He whispered. Abandoning the trail, he sank deeper into the woods.


	4. Chapter 4

          The sun turned overcast in the shade of the forest overgrowth, and Dean strained to find that splash of red hair that earlier glistened in the sun. He knew he saw her, he just needed to find her again. As the forest darkened, mushrooms sprouted up all around him and Dean was cautious to not step on any. He could not explain it, he just knew they should be kept safe. Very curious.  
          He rounded a particularly large tree, and suddenly there she was. Charlie: dressed in her queen LARP costume and puffing on a pipe.   
          "Charlie?" Dean asked as he approached her, and Charlie looked at him with all the air of royalty.  
          "Who are you?" She asked as she puffed at her pipe.  
          "Charlie its Dean," he said feeling a little hurt. But then Charlie smiled and emitted one of her goofy laughs that Dean found so endearing.   
          "I know that silly. It's LARP, remember? Play along with me." Stiffening once more, Charlie tilted her head and peered down her nose at Dean once more.   
          "Who are you?" She asked as she puffed at her pipe.  
          "I... don't know," Dean said, deciding to play along, "I mean, I know who I was this morning, but things have gone a bit out of whack since then." Charlie peered sternly at Dean with a frown marring her pretty face.  
          "What do you mean by that? Explain yourself!"  
          "How can I explain myself when I am not myself, your highness?" Dean thought himself clever and Charlie's frown deepened. She pondered this as she drew on her pipe and then turned to blow smoke rings into the sky.   
          "I think maybe you should tell me who you are first," Dean offered and Charlie cocked her head inquisitively.  
          "Why?" She asked and Dean shrugged.   
          "Because I can't remember the girl that you were," Dean said softly, “and I miss her." Charlie broke into a smile and waved her hands in front of her.  
          "Can I just game pause to say I love this battle of wits. You have been practicing, haven't you?"  
          "Charlie, where am I? What is this place?" Dean took a step forward in earnest but already Charlie was waiving her arms and announcing           "game resume!" She peered at Dean and puffed her pipe once more.  
          "I think I can help you brave knight on your noble quest," she said and Dean wanted to shake her.   
          "I don't even know what my quest is!" He exclaimed, and threw his hands in the air, exasperated.   
          "Oh but you would, if you could remember who you are." Charlie said as she drew on her pipe. Then she crooked a finger to lure Dean closer. He bent towards her, till their faces were almost touching, and Charlie blew out a smoke ring so that it framed his face in a misty halo.  
          "You," she whispered, “are a hunter."   
          "So my quest is to hunt then?" Dean asked, annoyed.   
          "Your quest is to save the Knave," Charlie declared sitting back once more, as she puffed in her pipe.  
          "What the hell is a Knave?" Dean snapped, “and when the hell did you start smoking?" Charlie waved her hands and announced "game pause".  
          "It's not tobacco," she said with a snort, "I just stuffed some mushrooms in my pipe. They really give you a buzz." That might explain a few things.   
          "Charlie, if I help this Knave, will I be able to go home?"   
          "I don't know," Charlie said, pondering, "but Castiel should be able to tell you that." Dean gasped.  
          "Cas? He's here?"  
          "Yes...well...sort of," Charlie said with a roll of her eyes, and she bit the stem of her pipe. "He can't really be here because he's not dead, you see." Dean winced and looked down at his feet. The words stung. Her death was still so raw and painful, he couldn't even think of a thing to say. He didn't want to make this an emotional moment. He didn't want to end up falling apart. So Dean did the only thing he knew how to: he distanced himself.   
          "Charlie, I'm going to go find Cas," he said softly and swallowed against the hoarseness in his throat. Charlie just smiled and waved.   
          "Last I heard he was conniving with the Mother. Follow the path to her house, you’ll see." Dean waved back, feeling melancholy and out of place, and turned to find the path through the woods once more.


	5. Chapter 5

          It took some time before Dean was able to find the path again. Not that it seemed to be growing any darker. The day didn't seem to progress at all, in fact, which only further disoriented Dean. He was definitely not in Kansas anymore. But this was also not Dean's first experience with alternate planes of existence. He had been to purgatory, heaven, and hell. He has seen Oz and traveled to different places in time. This place, while without a name, was just one more plane of existence that he needed to get out of so that he could return to his brother Sam. If Cas was here, no matter his capacity, he would certainly be able to help.  
          When at last he recovered the path, Dean laid into it to make up for lost time.   
          It didn't take long before he came upon a large cottage that looked like something right out of Disney. Butterflies played at the flowers in the window boxes, ivy climbed over the stonework in the right way to seem appealing, and the thatch roof gave it that home-sweet-home flare.   
          The only thing that spoiled the scene was the ruckus that emitted from within, and the lone Leviathan that was slumped on the stoop.  
          Dean froze as he glared at the thing. Leviathan's always made Dean shiver. These indestructible parasites that made his life a living hell for the better part of two years. And to see one here, unmasked and with his jagged teeth bared to the world, Dean fought against every desire he had to decapitate the thing where it sat.   
          He edged forward cautiously, and his eyes spotted an axe, just beyond where the Leviathan was perched. It was wedged into a block of wood, primed for splitting lumber.   
          "Hello," Dean said cautiously as he planned how he would parry for the axe the moment the Leviathan struck, but was surprised when the thing just looked at him and sighed. Trying to see past the teeth was hard, but Dean suddenly realized the creature was dressed in frilly purples and lace. His jacket was snug and fitted with scads of the lacey stuff spilling over his neck and wrists like soap suds. Dean couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. Oh this was far too much. "Hey guy... what you doing out here?" He said with a smile. He edged towards the Leviathan.   
          "The Mother has received invitation to attend the tournament," the creature said with a sigh.   
          "And?" Dean asked confused. Just then the clamor inside reached a particularly boisterous crescendo. A plate flew out of one of the nearby windows, narrowly missing the Leviathan's head, and crashed into a tree.   
          "Too much salt!" A woman from within screamed and the creature sighed again. Dean pivoted to the other side of him.   
          "I think I'm just going to sit here," the Leviathan said at last.  
          "For how long?" Dean asked, edging backwards.  
          "Till tomorrow," he replied. Dean turned and nabbed the axe, wrenching it free from the log it was driven into. "I shall sit here," the Leviathan continued to muse, "off and on for days and days."  
          "No... you won't," Dean replied and he lopped off the creature's head with his axe. He grabbed the thing as it tumbled towards his feet, and flung it as hard he could into the forest glen where it landed with a dull thud. Stepping past the frilly corpse, Dean went to the cottage door and looked inside.   
          Eve sat in a largely adorned chair, dressed in frill to match her Leviathan lackey, and appeared to be cooing a weepy baby on her lap. Behind her, Dick Roman scowled at the back of her head as he stirred at a big pot of soup. Dean shook his head. He felt like he just took a plunge head first into coo-coo land. He didn't even know where to begin, but he still gripped the axe tightly in his hand, and that was something.   
          "Dean!" Eve greeted with a smile, "Come in, hunter!" Dean eyed the Mother warily but opened the cottage door and stepped inside.   
          "You're just in time! And you brought an axe too, good. See my cook behind me? Chop off his head."  
          "Now Eve," Dick Roman said with his easy smile, "surely you don't mean that. She's just sore Dean because I like a lot of salt in my soup." Eve scowled and Dean couldn't blame her. While Leviathan's seemed indifferent to salt, so many other creature's think of it much differently.   
          "I wouldn't mind, actually," Dean said as he stepped further into the room, "I have already beheaded one Leviathan today, I can do another." Dean would pay serious money for the opportunity to cut off Dick Roman's head.  
          "Another Leviathan?" Eve asked, "You mean my footman? Whatever was he doing outside?"   
          Probably hiding from this madness, Dean thought but felt best not to say. He was going to mention the message about the tournament when movement caught his eye. Dean's head turned without thought, following the motion.  
          Across the room, slumped in a cage, was Castiel. He looked bedraggled and weary, and across his mouth was a large swath of duct tape glistening like a sinister grin.   
          "Why is Cas in that cage?" Dean demanded and Eve glanced at the angel before shrugging.   
          "That is not a Cas that is a cat. A Castiel cat."  
          "Why is the Castiel cat in the cage?" Dean restated, trying his patience. Eve leaned in sinisterly.  
          "Because he is naughty," she whispered.   
          "I have plans to eat him," Dick chimed in, and Eve rolled her eyes.   
          "I'll tell you why your footman was outside," Dean said, deriving a plan, "he received a message that you needed to attend a tournament immediately."  
          Eve gasped and jumped to her feet.  
          "When did he receive this word?" Her eyes were wide with fright and Dean shrugged innocently.   
          "I don't know, he just kept saying he was sitting there for days and days. I can't begin to guess how long ago he got word."  
          "The fool!" Eve hissed and cursed under her breath. "I must leave straight away! Footman! My horse!"  
          "Your footman is beheaded," Dick remarked coldly.  
          "Then you are my footman!" Eve snapped, "We leave at once!"   
          "And what of the baby? Can I eat the little pig?" Dean glanced at what Eve had in her arms and winced. It was one of those hybrid things she was working on. Those Jefferson Starships. He was not about to volunteer for babysitting duty.  
          "The cat can watch him," Eve said, placing the child on her gilded chair, and she turned to whisk her frills out the cottage door.  
          "See you soon, hunter," Dick Roman said with a grin as he followed after her. Dean didn't even want to guess what all of that meant.  
          When the two were out of the cottage, Dean took one last glance at the baby with a shiver and then turned towards the cage to free Castiel. He stopped in his tracks the moment he realized the cage was now empty, and looked around the cottage for his friend. Cas had been there, hadn’t he? Everything was more and more curious.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

          Giving up on the cottage, Dean went outside to return his trek through the woods. Dick and Eve were nowhere in sight.   
          "Cas?" Dean called out looking up to the trees. "Where the hell did you get to?" Looking down again, he jumped when he saw Cas was standing right in front of him. That taped grin was very unsettling. Reaching out, Dean gingerly worked his fingers around a corner of the tape, and then yanked it off with one fluid motion. Cas worked his mouth and took in a deep breath of air.  
          "Thank you, Dean," he said softly.   
          "You couldn't just do that yourself? You have hands don't you?"  
          "That is the trouble, you see," Cas said and he lifted his arms to show Dean his hands weren't there.   
          "Holy shit," Dean exclaimed, "what the hell happened?"  
          "Don't distress,"Castiel said and suddenly everything fade out except his head floating above an invisible body, "I come and go," then his head faded away and only his lips remained suspended in the air, "I'm not supposed to be here so it's hard for me to stay." Then his lips were gone too as if he never was. Dean looked around.   
          "Cas?" He called out.   
          "I'm still here, Dean," came a voice from nowhere and everywhere all at once.  
          "What do you mean you aren't supposed to be here?" Dean said looking around as he was not sure where his eyes belonged.   
          "What I mean to say is, this is a place of dead things."  
          "Am I dead, then?" Dean asked.   
          "No, you are the hunter," Cas responded as though that cleared up everything.   
          "So if I'm the hunter, can you tell me where I'm supposed to go from here?"  
          "Well," Cas said and his head suddenly reappeared, "that depends on where you want to get to."  
          "I don't care where," Dean said, annoyed, and in an instant Cas was complete once more. Hands and all.  
          "Then it doesn't matter which way you go," he did simply and Dean rolled his eyes.   
          "Well I want to get somewhere!"  
          "And you'll do that if you walk long enough," Cas said with a tilt of his head to the side. Dean tried a different approach.   
          "Look, Cas. What is closest to here?"  
          "Just around the bend that way," Cas began and lifted his hand to point but his hand had vanished again, "lives an angel." Cas leaned in close, conspiratorially, "he wears a hat and is quite insane."   
          "Well I'm not going there then," Dean said with a frown.  
          "Why not?" Cas asked, genuinely surprised.   
          "I don't want to be around crazy people, Cas," Dean said incredulously, and Cas chuckled.  
          "It's too late for that, Dean, we're all crazy here. I'm crazy, you're crazy..."  
          "What makes you think I'm crazy," Dean asked with a sneer.  
          "Because," Cas said and as his body faded away, his head leaned in close to whisper against Dean's ear, "if you weren't crazy, you wouldn't have come here." Cas's head faded too, and then he was gone.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

          Being that Castiel felt no need to resurface with some more of his sage wisdom, Dean felt he had no other choice but to continue forward. He was leery of crazy angels, but Cas had said that this guy with a hat was the closest thing around, and really Dean needed some more answers about what the hell he's supposed to be doing. And who this Knave was that he's supposed to save.   
He walked the path where Cas had pointed. Well...sort of pointed, and soon he came upon a vast garden filled with a cornucopia of floral. Tulips swayed in the breeze, and bougainvillea climbed along lattice fencing. Song birds carried a tune across lush green grasses, and great spreading umbrella pines cast patches of shadow over the earth. It was the kind of place Dean wouldn't mind rolling into with a hammock and a beer and just make himself comfortable. That was but for the giant gaudy table slapped down in the middle of everything.   
          The table was long and lined with empty chairs. Across its surface were mountains of overturned dishes and cups, appearing to have been dirtied and the discarded. Dean scanned the contents, and then his eyes lifted to where the table ended.   
          At the tables head, squeezed together so that they all claimed host to this empty party, sat the angels Balthazar, a very drowsy Samandriel, and on the end in a top hat and tuxedo, was a very cleaned up Gabriel. Dean swallowed hard. Did he really want to poke this hornets nest?   
          They all looked incredibly bored, but they hadn't noticed him yet. Dean could just turn around, back away, and... go where? What would he learn? Letting out a long sigh, Dean stepped into the clearing and walked up to the table. Finding a vacant seat near the head where the settings appeared unused, Dean pulled back the chair and sat down.   
          "Would you like some booze?" Gabriel said idly without even looking up to acknowledge Dean. Dean would fucking love some booze! That stuff would cure his liver problems hands down when just one swig can knock him on his ass like it does.   
          "I would love some booze," Dean said jovially, but then he looked around the table and frowned. "But I don't see any."  
          "That's because their isn't any," Gabriel said and he lifted his head to look at Dean. His wide hazel eyes, shaded by his top hat, held a wild glint that made Dean uneasy.   
          "Well that was kind of rude," he admitted honestly, and Gabe shrugged.   
          "So is sitting down at a table without an invitation."  
          "Let off him, Gabe," Balthazar whined, and he lifted his arms in a stretch. "Can't you see he has questions?" Samandriel turned his head but continued to doze; his face buried against his folded arms.  
          "Many questions," he sighed in his high lilty voice as though he were talking in his sleep.   
          "I have questions too!" Gabe declared, and he picked up a cane propped against the side of the table and pointed it at Dean.  
          "What is the difference between a hunter and an angel?" Gabriel asked in riddle. Dean eyed Gabriel's cane and thought about his axe, feeling a weapon might come in handy, but the second he thought of it he realized it was gone. Where had it gone? Did he set it down? How long ago?   
          "Would you like some more alcohol, Dean?" Balthazar offered.   
          "How can I have more alcohol when I haven't had any to begin with?" Asked Dean, annoyed.   
          "Ah but don't you mean to say how can you have less?" Gabriel offered with a flash of teeth, "You can always have more when you have had nothing."  
          "Nobody asked your opinion," Dean muttered under his breath.   
          "He has a point," Samandriel sighed in his sleep although if he was referring to Dean or Gabriel, Dean couldn't tell.   
          "What time is it?" Dean asked, trying to change the subject.  
          "It's always time for a drink," Balthazar said and Dean scowled at him.   
          "Is that why your table is such a mess? Always time to drink, never time to clean up?" Dean offered.  
          "Precisely!" Gabriel snapped and he worked to adjust his hat. "Have you guessed the answer to my riddle yet?"  
          "Your riddle?" Dean asked and then he remembered Gabriel's question from earlier. "No, I give up. What's the answer?"  
          "I haven't the slightest idea," Gabriel said, his face the perfect display of innocence, then he burst into cackles of laughter.  
          "Be quiet. I'm sleeping," Samandriel said as he turned his head and Dean shuddered at the long screws protruding from his temples and forehead.  
          "I would still like to know the time," Dean pressed and Gabriel scoffed.  
          "Wouldn't we all? Look at me, hunter, do you think I dress this way for drink? There is a tournament I am in need of attending."  
          "If only we were all invited to such excellence," Balthazar said with a roll of his eyes and Gabriel flashed his teeth in a grin.   
          "Come with me then! Be the highlight of the party. The hunter can come too."  
          "If don't think-" Dean began.   
          "Then you shouldn't talk!" Gabriel snapped in retort, and he reached to adjust his hat again. Well Dean had about enough of dealing with this senseless conversation. Getting to his feet, he left the garden without another word and no one bothered to call after him.


	8. Chapter 8

          Dean continued down the trail, and he soon came upon a tree that had a door in it. He wasn't sure if he had ever seen anything like that before, but he decided rather quickly that this would be the best option on what he should do next.   
          Opening the door, he stepped through, and realized rather quickly that he was back in the building where he started. This made Dean want to scream in frustration until he realized that the vent was no longer closed off and he should be able to get inside.   
          "Well I'm not going to make the same mistake twice," Dean said and when he bent down to enter the vent, he avoided the pressure plate that had previously triggered the lever.   
          He crawled the length of the narrow tunnel unscathed, and when he got to the other side, he cautiously peered out. Unfortunately, his view was completely obstructed by books. Which was odd, but what wasn't in this place?   
          Dean edged out, careful not to disturb the books, and slid along the wall until he found a clearing. Dean looked out into the garden, and took in quite a sight. While he was definitely in a garden, it also looked like a library. Rows of book shelves lined the fences, and long tables were covered with books in the middle. Amongst the spread, was a true cacophony of panic. Angels ran to and from the shelves, dispersing books, then replacing them. Some angels ran in circles, others collided into eachother, and one sat one the ground wailing.  
          Dean reached out and grabbed an angel as she ran past him, and yanked her back behind the rows of books. Turning her to face him, Dean was surprised to see it was Anna.   
          "Dean!" She exclaimed and then looked away from him blushing furiously.   
          "Anna, what the hell is going on out there?"   
          "Oh it's terrible," Anna wailed. "Metatron asked for his books to be placed in chronological order by author and we...and we..." Her voice broke as large tears spilled out from her terrified eyes. "We put them in order by title!"           She wailed and then broke into open sobs. Dean pulled Anna back into the clearing and watched as the other angels scrambled about.   
          "I don't understand why this is such a big deal," Dean said matter of factly.  
          "He'll cut off our wings!" One angel hissed as he scampered by and Anna cried even louder.   
          Just then, a loud horn blared from places deeper within the garden and all the angels wailed. Some tried to flee, while others simply cowered on the ground.   
          Suddenly Metatron was there with a flourish of his smoking jacket, and Gadreel followed close behind him. Oddly, Meg was there as well, looking very hard to be pleased to be in such company, and Eve and Dick trailed at the end. All of them filtered in and watched as Metatron spit and sputtered over the state of his books.  
          "What...what is this?" He roared and the angels all fell to the ground if they weren't there already. Dean scowled at the rudeness of the guy. He took the opportunity to plant his foot squarely on a stack of books, and he kicked them over.  
          The books tumbled into eachother and suddenly a whole side of the stacked books were falling over themselves. All eyes turned to Dean.  
          "What good are these book?" He asked, "when there are no girly pictures or...decent conversation."   
          "What are you doing here?" Metatron asked carefully.   
          "I could ask you the same thing," Dean said, "you're not even dead."   
          "I might as well be!" Metatron roared and he stepped forward to kick a nearby angel in the ribs. "Rotting in that cell day in and day out... it's like I'm dead already."   
          "Hey!" Dean shouted taking a step forward, "can't you see they are afraid of you?"  
          "It's better to be feared than to be loved," Metatron said with a crooked grin, and he kicked the angel again.   
          "Well you got a point there," Dean said with an edge of snark, "it's easier to find someone to fear you than to find anyone to love you any day of the week." Metatron's mouth dropped open in fury.   
          "What did you say to me?" He roared, then he threw his head back and screamed "off with his wings!"  
          "Metatron," Gadreel muttered, hurried and hushed, "he doesn't have wings. He's a hunter." Metatron lowered his head and studied Dean once more. Calmness seemed to return to his stormy nature.  
          "Oh that's right," he mused. Then he waved at the angels cowering on the ground. "Off with their wings then, the hunter comes with me."  
          "No!" Dean shouted, but already Metatron was strolling back into the garden and Dean was being whisked along to follow. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Anna watching him; her fingers on one hand slowly waving goodbye.   
          Dean turned around and grabbed at Meg who cried out when his hands closed in her hair.   
          "Make him stop," Dean seethed and Meg barked a short laugh.   
          "Stop what, punishing those dead angels? You better worry about saving your own skin, hunter. You are here for the Knave not them."  
          "What the hell is a Knave?" Dean asked and Meg blinked in surprise. She glanced at Metatron, who was out of earshot, but lowered her voice anyway.   
          "You're telling me you don't know? What have you been doing this whole time I've been sitting here?" She asked and it was Dean's turned to look surprised. As far as he could tell, they were still in the same day they started in. Or was that yesterday? He was certain he's not the person he was then.   
          "How long have you been here?" Dean asked.   
          "Forever," Meg said with a groan.   
          "Well, how long is forever?" Dean pressed and Meg turned to look at him with a smile.  
          "Sometimes, just one second."   
          "Enough!" Metatron barked and Dean realized the procession had stopped. They had entered a vast clearing of lush greens and adorning shrubbery, and the entire area was decorated with billiard tables. There had to have been a dozen from Dean's estimate. "Now!" Metatron said with his crooked teeth bared. He rubbed his hands together in a short of giddy glee. "The hunter will participate in the tournament to spare his life. If he fails, I will cut off his head."


	9. Chapter 9

          Dean found a billiard table and Meg joined him. Other guests were arriving now, and Dean could see Gabriel with his crew, as well as Benny and his demon trio. Everyone eyed each other with the greatest suspicion, but they all found places at different billiard tables to compete. "I've gone crazy, haven't I?" Dean asked Meg and she looked at him with such forlorn.  
          "I'm afraid so," she said, then leaned in close to Dean. "But let me tell you something, hunter, the best people usually are."  
          "Let the tournament begin!" Gadreel announced solemnly and Dean was startled at the lack of warning. He went to the rack to pick up a cue and discovered the wood to be horribly warped. It was useless for the game. He tried another and found it to be in the same situation. Glancing around, Dean stopped to gape at the other participants. Everyone was shooting at once. Some were not even using the scratch ball and just lined the cues up against the colored balls. All the sticks were horribly misshapen and any type of competition was lost to ludicrous way the contestants played.  
          "This is bullshit," Dean announced, and he dropped the stick he was holding to the ground. He decided this was the perfect opportunity to exit stage left.   
          "Wait!" Metatron shouted, and all games fell silent. He strode across the gardens and peered up at Dean with a frown. "I think you shall play against me, hunter," he sneered and Dean sighed. Like this was going to be fair. He grabbed a stick and approached the table, and Metatron followed suit.   
As soon as they reached the billiard table, angels swarmed in all around them frantically racking the balls and chalking Metatron's cue.   
          "I'll go first!" Metatron declared and Dean was not the least bit surprised. He stepped back to watch but was distracted by a rustle from a nearby bush. Dean glanced over to see Castiel stepping onto the green.   
          "Cas!" Dean exclaimed and felt he was genuinely glad to see his friend. He missed Sam more than anything but Cas would do.   
          "How are you liking Metatron?" Castiel asked and his arms faded out of sight.   
          "I think he's trying to cut off my head," Dean said and Castiel nodded as though this were a matter of course.  
          "How do you like the game?" He asked and Dean looked to see the angels standing around the table moving the balls so Metatron would hit them.   
          "He is cheating. Again, in hopes to cut off my head." Castiel's body disappeared so that just his head bobbed when he nodded.   
          "I suspect you will look a bit like me if he is successful," he remarked casually.   
          "Hunter, who are you talking to?" A voice calls and Dean turned to see Gadreel approaching.   
          "Gadreel this is my friend, Castiel," Dean said and turned to see that only Castiel's arms had returned so that his head seemed to float about them.   
          "I don't like the look of him," Gadreel says suspiciously, then he called to Castiel "will you ally with me? I'll allow you to shake my hand."  
          "I'd rather not," Castiel remarked and Gadreel hissed his distaste.   
          "You cannot speak to me this way! I'll have you removed from this garden!"  
          "Don't bother, Gadreel," Metatron chimed in without looking up from his one-man billiard game, "just chop off his head."  
          Off with his head!" Gadreel declares.  
          "But, your excellence," Eve offers from a few feet away, "his head is already removed." Dean turns to look, and it does appear that Castiel’s head is not firmly attached to the rest of his fading body.   
          "Then cut off his wings!" Gadreel announces and Castiel frowned.  
          "Metatron already did that to me once, you are not allowed to do it again."   
          "Then I will cut off the head of your owner, cat!" Gadreel roared in frustration, and looked to Dean. "Is it you?"  
          "Oh no, I definitely do not own Cas," Dean said with his hands up defensively.   
          "Who is it then?" Gadreel asked and Dean glanced over at Eve.  
          "Cas doesn't belong to anyone. And if he knows what's the better choice, he'll make himself gone." Cas did not hesitate to oblige him, and winked out of existence in an instant.   
          "Where did he go!" Gadreel roared.  
          "Stop worrying about him and come watch the game," Metatron whined. Dean checked and saw that he had managed to get all but one of his balls off of the table. Wonder of wonders with all the help he was getting. When Gadreel reluctantly went to the table to watch, Dean thought it a good time to get the hell out of there. He moved away and Eve approached him.  
          "It's nice to have a moment to talk," she says with a smile and fell in beside Dean as though they were having a casual stroll. "I appreciate you defending me back there."  
          "What?" Dean asked looking down at her.   
          "By not telling Gadreel that the Castiel cat was mine. I appreciate you coming to my defense."  
          "Look lady, I'm not defending anyone," Dean said, thinking it a bad idea to be paired up with the Mother of purgatory, "I'm just trying to mind my own business."   
          "Oh I completely agree," Eve said with a smile, "if everybody minded their own business, the world would go around a great deal faster than it does."  
          "Dean! Hunter!" Metatron's voice was jarring and Dean groaned.   
          "Thank you for talking to me," Eve said and patted his shoulder, "try not to die before the trial." And then she turned and fluttered away.


	10. Chapter 10

          "Dean!" Metatron called again and Dean rounded the corner of the garden.  
          "I'm here, I'm here," he said gruffly and Metatron smiled.   
          "Good, good. Can you tell me something?"  
          "I'll try," offered Dean.   
          "Who won the contest? I can't seem to recall." Dean looked over to Metatron to see if the angel scribe was making a joke but his eyes were wide and genuine.   
          "Uh...I did," Dean said and Metatron groaned. He started to walk and Dean fell in beside him.  
          "I was really hoping to cut off your head," he stated.   
          "Well, better luck next time," Dean offered with a half grin.   
          "Time is running short anyway" Metatron mused. “Hunter, here we must run as fast as we can, just to stay in place. And if you wish to go anywhere you must run twice as fast as that.”   
          "I would hate to be a bother to your schedule with my unplanned execution," Dean mused in return.  
          "In any case, I must make busy to prepare the trial. In your case I think it best if you visit the Roadhouse. Bobby can show you the way. Go and let them occupy you until the trials time. I will send for you then." Dean stopped walking and watched Metatron prance ahead; seemingly oblivious that he was there and then gone.   
          Bobby. Could he really be there? It would make sense but Dean didn't imagine he would ever see the guy again. Bobby was more his father than John ever was. But to see him here, distorted by the madness of this place... Dean didn't know if he could take it.   
          "Hello, ya idjit," came a voice from behind him, and Dean slowly turned to see Bobby standing in the shade of the garden bushes.  
          "Bobby," Dean breathed and the bearded man smiled.   
          "Come on, let's blow this popsicle stand. I have some friends who are dying to see you... no pun intended of course." Dean smiled warmly and followed Bobby out of the garden.  
          "Bobby, can you tell me where I am?" Dean asked and Bobby shrugged. "Doesn't much matter where you are. What matters is how you get back."  
          "Ok, then how do I get back?" Dean ventured but already they were approaching the Roadhouse in the clearing.   
          "Come on," Bobby said, "we'll talk more inside." Dean followed Bobby closely and they entered the Roadhouse together. It looked just as it had so many years ago. Nostalgia gripped at Dean's heart and he ran his hands over the smooth wood of the dingy bartop.  
          "Hello stranger," a girls voice sounded and Dean turned with a smile.   
          "Jo!" He exclaimed and closed the distance to pull her into a hug.   
          "Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Ellen said and Dean reached out to hug her as well. This was his family back when he still believed that he was doing the right thing. That he was saving people. He lost them all, one one by one, and so many after them too. Seeing them all together again made him wish he could turn back the clock and just fix so many of the mistakes he's made.   
          "I keep getting bounced around," Dean said with a smile, "I'm never sure where I'm going to be from one minute to another."  
          "That's the thing about dreams," Bobby said beside him, "No real time line to go off of."  
          "This is a dream?" Dean asked.   
          "Of course it's a dream!" Ellen said with a laugh.  
          "That's impossible," Dean said, shaking his head.   
          "So what if it is!" Exclaimed Jo, “Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.”   
          "So what do I do?" Dean asked all the of them, "how do I wake up?"  
          "That's simple," said Bobby.   
          "You just need to be the hunter," said Jo.  
          "You just have to save the Knave," said Helen.  
          Dean wanted to just throw his head back and scream. "What the hell is a Knave!" He shouted.   
          "A Knave is a servant," Castiel said from behind him, and Dean turned to watch his friend appear at the Roadhouse entrance.   
          "Good to see you're back," Dean remarked.  
          "I never left you, Dean," Cas said softly.   
          "A Knave is a servant," Bobby repeated.  
          "Usually a boy," added Jo.  
          "As opposed to an older man," Castiel clarified.   
          "Yeah, I get that," said Dean.  
          "A Knave can be dishonest," offers Ellen.  
          "A rogue," said Bobby.  
          "A rascal," said Jo.   
          "But not to everyone," Castiel offers.  
          "Only to the hand he's dealt in," says Ellen.  
          "Only to the house that controls him," says Bobby.  
          "Metatron," Dean whispers and all four nod in unison.   
          "So here is a riddle," a new voice interjects, and Dean turns to see Gabriel, top hat and all, saunter into the room. It was jarring and odd to see the two angels in a place they never knew existed in reality.   
          "What boy, what Knave, is a servant to the house of Metatron but betrays the house to his friends?" Dean didn't need to remember Benny's story to supply the answer.   
          "Kevin," he said softly.  
          "Save the Knave," Jo whispers.  
          "Come," said Gabriel, "I'm here to bring you back by word of Metatron. The trial is about to begin."


	11. Chapter 11

          By the time Dean arrived back in the garden, the billiard tables were removed and a great podium was contructed. Metatron sat behind the podium, gavel in hand, and Gadreel sat next to him, his seat just somewhat lower in height. All around them on rows of benches sat everyone Dean had encountered thus far in this strange place. Even Ellen, Jo, and Bobby snuck in right behind him. Charlie was there, and Benny with his crew, Meg of course, and the Leviathan trio being that the footman must have recovered his head.   
          In the middle of them all, head slumped and shoulders weary, stood Kevin. He was bound in chains and his clothing looked as though he were locked in a prison for weeks. Dean took a step towards him, but Gabriel held him back, and instead offered him a bench to sit upon which Dean reluctantly took.  
          "Silence in the court!" Meg called out, and a hush fell over the crew.   
          "Why are we here?" Asked Metatron with a yawn.  
          "To try the Knave and behead him for reading the ancient tablets to his friends, your excellence," Gadreel offered.  
          "Ah yes, and what is the verdict?"  
          "Should we not call witnesses first?" Asked Meg, desperately.  
          "Very well," Metatron said with a wave of his hand, "call the first witness."  
          "I call Gabriel to the stand!" Meg called out. Gabriel rose next to Dean and walked to the small testimony box next to the podium. Upon sitting, he lifted his hat long enough to produce a bottle from underneath.   
          "I hope you don't mind," he said, "you interrupted my time to drink with your trial."  
          "Here! Here!" Balthazar called from the crowd and lifted a bottle of his own. Dean grumbled under his breath. They never did share with him in the garden.   
          "Remove your hat to testify," Gadreel demanded.  
          "I can't, it's not my hat to remove," offered Gabriel as he sipped at his tonic. Dean stood up, and edged across the benches to where Balthazar still sat.  
          "So you stole it, then?" Gadreel asked incredulously.   
          "I prefer to say borrowed," Gabriel countered and took another swig. Dean sat down next to Balthazar, and the angel eyed him askance.   
          "Testify!" Gadreel snapped, pounding his fist on the podium, "or I should execute you on the spot." Gabriel looked up at the other angel and a worried expression crossed his face. Dean, otherwise distracted, reached into Balthazar's jacket and produced the bottle the angel had stored in there. The angel frowned at him.   
          "I... don't know if I remember," Gabriel said nervously, "I'm just a poor angel, no understanding of such things. I couldn't even have the time to finish my drink without interruption."  
          "Or the dignity to take off your hat!" Gadreel declared.   
          "May I step down then, sir?" Gabriel asked and Gadreel nodded assent. "Call the next witness!" Metatron roared and Meg jumped.  
          "I call Dick Roman to the stand," she declared. Dean took a swig from the bottle in his hand and glanced over at Kevin. He tried to get his friends attention, but Kevin looked so somber and withdrawn that Dean couldn't even get him to twitch.   
          Dick made a show of strolling up to the stand. Ever the politician, he smiled at Metatron and greeted Gadreel before finding his seat in the testimony box.   
          "Mister Roman," Gadreel said, peering down at the Leviathan, "give us your testimony.   
          "I'm afraid I can't," Dick said with a melancholy frown.  
          "Why not?" Metatron whined.  
          "Because, I don't know anything about this case. I've never even met the Knave."   
          "Meg! What kind of witnesses are these?" Gadreel roared and Meg's eyes fell on Dean. So that's how it was. Stall the courts till he was ready. Well no time like the present he supposed.   
          Taking another swig of the rich heady tonic, he passed the bottle back to Balthazar and got to his feel.   
          "Metatron, I would like to speak on behalf of the Knave," Dean declared and all eyes fell on him.


	12. Chapter 12

          Kevin lifted his head to watch Dean as the hunter approached the testimony box. He walked in front of his friend and offered him a reassuring smile.  
          "D-Dean?" Kevin croaked. Dean didn't answer, but instead found his seat and looked out, to examine the crowd.   
          "Now, begin at the beginning," Gadreel said, very gravely, "and go on till you come to the end: then stop.”   
          Dean took a deep breath and looked over to where Kevin still stood, as still as stone.  
          "The Knave is innocent," Dean declared and gasps could be heard throughout the garden trial.  
          "How can you be so sure," Gadreel demanded, stunned.  
          "Because, this is a dream, and all in my crazy head," Dean said, "so how can anyone be convicted of anything when nothing really exists here."   
          "I can see your point," Metatron said with a nod, "you would have to be half crazy to dream me up." Dean couldn't argue with him there.   
          "So if all of this is in your head," Gadreel offered, "then this is all your fault. Should you not be blamed for everything?"   
          "He's right!" Metatron declared, "Why didn't i see it sooner? Free the Knave and bring me the hunter's head!"   
          "Run, Dean!" Castiel's voice whispered in his ear and Dean did not hesitate. He got to his feet and vaulted over the testimony box. He ran back through the garden towards where the books laid abandoned in haphazard piles.  
          "Off with his head!" Metatron screamed from behind him, and Dean skidded past then doubled back to where the vent still sat open. He climbed inside.  
          "Off with his head!" Metatron's voice seemed to boom from all around him and Dean scampered out of the vent into the large room he originally entered. He glanced back through the vent and saw many forms lumbering towards him. Dean pressed the pressure plate on the floor and the metal door slammed shut.   
          Scrambling to his feet, Dean ran to the door at the other end of the hall, half expecting it to be locked; hoping it wasn't, Dean turned the knob and threw it open into sunlight.

          Dean sat up in his bed with a loud gasp. His heart was racing, he was covered in sweat, and his mouth tasted like two week old dirty socks.  
          "Dean!" Sam said from the other bed, "are you okay?"   
          "Sam!" Dean said and he stumbled out of his bed to wrap arms around his brother.   
          "Where was I?" Dean asked.   
          "No where! I mean you were just laying there sleeping." Dean pulled away and looked at his brother.   
          "How long was I out?" Dean asked.   
          "An hour? Maybe two?" Sam offered, "Dean, are you okay?" Dean sat back on his bed and let out a long sigh. Scrubbing his hands over his face, he shook his head.  
          "I need a drink," he muttered.   
          "Whiskey?" Sam offered.   
          "No!" Dean said a little too loudly. "Uh...no. water, please. Thank you, Sam." Sam looked at his brother, puzzled, but got up and took a plastic cup into the bathroom to fill with the faucet.   
          "I just had the strangest dream, Sam," Dean called after him. "I can't remember most of it now. But something with Cas's head floating around and Bobby...I don't know. I must have some crazy imagination."  
          "Well," Sam said as he returned from the bathroom, "Lewis Carroll once wrote 'Imagination is the only weapon in the war against reality'." He handed the cup of water to Dean and returned to his bed.  
          "Who?" Dean asked, wrinkling his nose at the name.  
          "Lewis Carroll? He wrote Alice in Wonderland."   
          "That's pretty lame, Sam," Dean said and gulped down his cup of water. It tasted worse than his mouth did. Laying back down in his bed, he folded his arms behind his head and stared up at the ceiling.   
          "I'm just saying that maybe it's good to have strange dreams sometimes," Sam grumbled.  
          "Pretty lame," Dean repeated, and shortly there after, his eyes drifted shut, and he fell back asleep.


End file.
